


The Wanderer

by Trickstress



Series: We Built This City [10]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, Immortal FAHC, Immortal Fake AH Crew, M/M, Too pure for this world, he saves kittens from a flood what do you think will happen, jeremy's backstory, pre fake ah crew, so jeremy is a sweet bean but terrible things happened, yes you read the relationship tag right you heathens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 16:46:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15822942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trickstress/pseuds/Trickstress
Summary: Jeremy was one of those people who could have everything terrible in the world thrown at him and still come out smiling at the people watching him in the end.  He honestly didn't dwell much on his previous lives but when you travel on the first expedition to the North Pole and do a number of amazing things, you couldn't just ignore it for too long. This is the story of Eugene Walker and how he became the man known as Jeremy Dooley.





	The Wanderer

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for taking so long to get this out. A certain scene had me stuck for a number of weeks but I finally pushed through and got through it with a little help from a music playlist I made for this series. I will warn you that some scenes in this get brutal. Also, the working title for Jeremy's backstory was Brokeback Savannah so take that with what you will.

Jeremy honestly didn’t dwell much on his original life.

Sure, there were the basics such as he was born on a ship in 1829 to a couple who were looking for a new start somewhere. They were of the upper class in England but grew tired of the day to day boredom and wished to have adventure. Hence the ship, and why he doesn’t really have a set place of birth. Since his parents never wanted to return to England again, the young Eugene Walker grew up not really having a traditional home.

The boy grew up and learned many things through his family’s travels. They traveled to various colonies that England proper had claimed and some that were a bit more interesting. As the years passed, he soon gained two younger sisters: Amelia and Alice. Amelia was six years younger than he was while Alice was a good twelve years younger. 

His parents were happy that he played the part of the protective older brother, and as such, they didn’t mind as much if their daughters ran around exploring with their older brother rather than becoming proper young ladies. They did always find time to braid their older brother’s hair who refused to have it cut and he would turn it into lessons about making trinkets or other items that their mother would approve of.

The Walkers never truly settled, always moving around until 1854. They were currently on an expedition in Australia for Mr. Walker’s adventure novel that he was working on, when Eugene became ill. It seemed to come out of nowhere. First it was the fever and vomiting, but it quickly evolved into his skin turning yellow and seizures. The doctors that the family brought to their boy couldn’t do anything for him. Mr. and Mrs. Walker kept the girls away, not wanting them to get sick, but also not wanting them to see their beloved older brother so sick.

Eugene Walker died on June 18th, 1854. He was buried in a plot of land in a small Christian cemetery outside of Perth with a small funeral. Mrs. Walker, Amelia, and Alice were inconsolable. The two younger girls never went without a day wearing their small handmade necklaces that their brother had made for them. Each had a beautiful stone that was secured tightly with twine. They had found them when Eugene was watching them for a day when he was 18.

Despite their hesitance to leave him, the Walkers left Australia and Mr and Mrs Walker never returned again.

Amelia and Alice continued to travel until Amelia eventually found a loving husband and was raising a family with him as Mrs. Moore. Alice preferred writing books, the following the same career path as her father though she chose the fiction route. She was surprised to find that her books became popular and well loved despite the criticism of being a now acclaimed female author in the public view.

Eugene Walker woke up in the fall of 1871 to being trapped in a wooden box and pulling himself with weak and bloody hands up to the surface where he hungrily gasped for air.

The young man laid there, looking up at the night sky as his chest heaved. He hadn’t felt so...alive in such a long time. Well, he thought that now. He rolled over and looked at the rock next to where he had climbed out of. 

“Oh.”

Well, his statement was truer than most.

The weathered headstone certainly cleared up any doubt of him dying, that’s for sure. Plus the fact that it looked so old meant it happened a while ago. 

That just left him wondering what he should do next when all he had was his suit that he was currently wearing and some coins in his pockets with a note from little Alice saying she wanted to give him some money for the general store in heaven so he could get some candy since he always gave them his share.

Awwww.

Well, Eugene did what he knew best. Traveling. He clearly had come back a decent amount of time later than when he had died so why dwell on it? His parents had taught him how to survive, now was just the perfect time to use it.

He started in the colony where he not only first set foot on as a child, but the one he became a part of when he was buried.

He started out by just roaming around exploring things, just for the sake of exploring things. Nothing difficult but he found some bloody gorgeous spots that he kept track of for later. Nothing really changed, except for his location...until Timothy came along.

Timothy was tall. That was the first thing that Eugene noticed about him, which was easily deduced when comparing himself to the tanned golden haired Adonis before him. He was pretty much all muscle and wore tan pants and a expedition vest and other than his sturdy boots, he didn’t wear much else but why would he when Australia was roasting even on a good day.

They had met in a small town on the outskirts of the wilderness, both headed out there relatively soon. They were both hanging around the bar, telling stories to some of the drunk patrons when Eugene overheard a man telling a rather epic tale of how he was kidnapped by poachers and somehow managed to get out of it AND save all of the animals.

“You know, you sound completely full of shit.” Eugene couldn’t help but interject and the man turned and eyed him up. A moment later, the man gave him a curious look and a cocky smirk.

“And why do you say that?” He asked and Eugene crossed his arms.

“You got captured AND broke out not only yourself as well as the animals from poachers with no repercussions and you kept the animals quiet enough to sneak off without waking a single poacher? What about guards? Surely with a captive and a bunch of rare and pricey animals, they would at least keep one person awake and keeping an eye on things?”

Everyone in the bar stared at Eugene. Then they shifted their gazes to the other man who stared at Eugene for a moment before bursting out into laughter.

“Blimey, it’s been a hell of a long time since someone called me out on my shit.” He turned to the bartender, “Get this fine bloke a beer on me. And you,” he turned back to Eugene, “I’ll tell you the full story.”

So that is how Jeremy met the man who introduced himself as Timothy and listened to a story of how he initially intended to do everything he said in his story he told to the rest of the bar, but what actually happened was he tried to escape from where he was strung up in the tree, only to partially escape and ended up upside down and swinging repeatedly into the trunk resulting in a broken nose. All of the animals did get rescued however when the rest of his friends, who he had ditched when he heard about the captured animals and forgot to tell them, actually showed up despite not being told.

Eugene was so amused by Timothy’s story that he suggested that while they were both in town, they should meet up and swap more stories. The other man agreed.

A month later, the great friends of Gene and Tim headed West in search of adventure. They certainly found it. A lot of it in fact. The two traveled for four years, not only crossing the Australian outback numerous times, but they got even more adventurous. They traveled throughout Africa and met locals and learned their customs. Tim laughing at the fact that Gene was absolute shit with languages and Gene naming his friend Rimmy Tim due to the fact that anytime they scaled something, his friend’s horrible balance would kick in and he’d either fall into, off of, or trip on the edges of whatever they were scaling. It’s honestly why they hadn’t planned on visiting any volcanoes anytime soon.

If they were a bit closer and more….touchy feely in public compared to other Western Europe men of that era, it was no one else’s business. It wasn’t like Gene would kiss and tell either. That one being literally.

It finally ended in the African Congo in 1876. They were traveling across the savannah with nothing really for miles. They were already well prepared supply-wise, but a storm had been brewing for a while now and they could hear the rumbles of thunder in the distance.

“Awww come on Genie! We’re not in a good spot for this. We should try and head back to somewhere where there’s more cover.” Tim pleaded while Gene let out a laugh.

“What I am hearing my lovely Rimmy Tim, is that you are scared of getting wet.” He walked past Tim who turned to him sternly.

“I’m serious Gene.” The man looked back.

“Come on Tim. We’ll be fine. Remember when you fell off that cliff that was hundreds of feet up and managed to survive because you managed to hit the water right?”

“That was about a hundred feet up and I still broke a few bones. This is completely different.”

“Tim, we’re gonna be fine!” Gene said reassuringly, holding his hand out to the other man who stared at it blankly. Tim then let out a sigh and took it, letting Gene pull him in closer.

“You’re lucky I love you.”

“You’re lucky I called you out on that bullshit in that bar.”

“You’re lucky we have fucking insane odds that we’ve encountered and haven’t died already.”

Another rumble of thunder shook the ground below them and Tim glared at Gene and stepped back from him.

“I swear to all that is holy-“

“Come on Timmy, we’ve survived worse than a little storm.”

“You’re asking for something to-“

Tim was cut off when suddenly the world exploded in a flash of white light and a loud explosion. It took a moment for Gene to shake off the searing pain enough to realize who he was or what he was doing. Then it came back to him.

“Tim-” the man croaked.

Moving a muscle seemed like agony let alone trying to move from his probe position on the ground. He looked feebly at his arms to see streaks of freshly burnt scars trailing across his skin. He could smell a sharp coppery odor mixed with the smell of sulfur and any bile left in his stomach gurgled up through his throat. Gagging, the foaming liquid dribbled out of his mouth. He nearly groaned at the effort to move the muscles of his mouth so he wouldn’t choke to death.

With pained effort, Gene slowly rolled into his side and opened his eyes and tried not to gag again.

Tim was laying there, covered in red branch-like welts that seemed to coat a large part of his body. The man’s eyes were staring at him, unseeing. Bits of his shirt were singed at the edges and his white cowboy hat lay partially trapped under the body.

Eugene wailed, not even caring about the pain anymore and tried to curl up into a ball until the pain was too much and he blacked out.

He woke to a light breeze and the smell of rain in the air. With a stretch, Gene waited for the pain to hit but surprisingly it didn’t. Opening crusty eyelids, he blinked and flinched at the fading sunlight which dusk had brought.

With great effort, he rolled his weak body onto its side and looked for the corpse of his lover but was staring in horror at the skeleton remained. Tattered clothing gave hints to the identity, but Eugene had witnessed it and still couldn’t believe it.

The man violently threw up bile as he laid on his side, almost wishing for the inky blackness to take over once more. But then he’s just wake up again to the same thing, wouldn’t he?

“It happened again.” He gasped after a solid couple of minutes puking. “I died again and I don’t know where I am. I don’t know when I am.”

It took a few hours for Eugene to find the strength to pick himself up and then he fumbled over to Tim and collapsed once more. This time with a purpose.

He used nothing but his hands, but he began to dig. He dug until his hands were raw and bloody. For hours on end, he kept working. He had already been there for however many years, so what was another day or two?

Finally, Gene felt satisfied and looked over to Tim’s remains and tasted bile on his tongue.

“This was my fault, and I’m so damn sorry. I’m so so sorry.” He rasped and crawled over and been to pick up the bones and tattered clothing. Slowly and carefully, he stood and began to move Tim’s remains into the makeshift grave. It took four trips and more strength than he knew he possessed but as he stared at the bones covered in bloody handprints, he felt a twinge of satisfaction that he at least suffered for Tim’s sake. A bit of him would still be there despite it all.

It took him a week to drag himself out of the desert. He had passed out not far from a town and some residents spotted him and dragged him to get some medical attention.

He awoke to a town who were understandably curious as to who he was and how he got there. Eugene was quiet and felt that through everything, he wasn’t really the same person who had entered into the wild lands however many years ago.

And so…

“My name’s Hubert Ryan. Bert for short.”

Bert only stayed in Africa for a week before he managed to make it to a port that would take him off of the continent . Before he left, he bought a white leather American cowboy hat off of some Europeans to remind him of who he left behind.

He was quite surprised to realize that he lost 30 years in that desert. Technology had advanced a good amount in the amount of time he’d been gone. There were things called automobiles and a number of other amazing things but Bert’s true calling was in nature or exploring.

That didn’t stop him from ending up in England when he had boarded a random boat out of Africa. The last time he had been in the country had been when he was too small to remember; long before his sisters had even been a thought in his parent’s heads.

The amount of people and tall buildings and just the simple rush of everyone around him was enough to have him nearly in a panic attack. Just the sheer amount of white noise was enough to drive the poor man mad.

He eventually boarded a ship to the United States of America. Bert had heard that there was plenty of opportunity to roam out there and being the curious man he was, he ventured out.

Honestly, it was the favorite place he had been so far. There were so many vast differences in the land in this one country that he could be content for a while, a couple years in fact until he became friends with a fellow explorer. The man’s name was Frederick Cook and he had big plans. No one had yet explored to the north, so in 1908 the two set off along with Robert Edwin Peary, Matthew Henson along with the Inuit men that Bert was very glad to meet: Aapilak, Ittukusuk, Ootah, Seegloo, Egingway, and Ooqueah. He spent most of the trip swapping stories between all of the men on their journey North.

They were the first to ever reach the pole and Bert was proud, yet not completely satisfied.

This is why he continued to travel and explore, making friends with a number of people with who he traded stories which he had them write in his increasing number of leather bound notebooks. It was one of the few things that he traveled with other than two changes of clothes: one for summer and one for winter along with some survival supplies, a compass, and some snacks.

Bert enjoyed traveling, but his true passion began when he was trapped in a flood in the midwest of the United States in 1913. The lightning crackling above him was absolutely terrifying and brought up things that he was happy to leave in the back of his mind when he heard some loud mewling underneath him. He was sitting on the roof of an abandoned house. He had ended up in there when the storm had gotten worse about five hours ago but the downpour quickly overwhelmed the small farming village he was passing through. It seemed like the one story house had been ravaged by a fire in the past so it wasn’t the greatest place to hide out but the somewhat suspicious small town citizens wasn’t something that he wanted to deal with while being sopping wet. 

Speaking of the mewing, Bert leaned over the hole in the roof and spotted a cat curled up tightly, hair raised, on top of a dresser which was quickly about to be overtaken by the water. If that wasn’t enough of a reason to help the poor thing, the mewling he had heard was from three kittens crying out from within the mother’s curled up body.

“Shit” 

He grabbed some rope from his backpack and tied it tightly to the tree branches which swayed violently above him. It was his attempt at a little bit of shelter, but hopefully it would be strong enough to support him on his rescue mission. Bert wrapped the rope around his left hand and let it slide carefully as he slipped through the hole and descended into the abandoned structure. 

Dangling over the moving water below him, he realized that he was going to have to put in a little bit more effort. The family of cats were about six feet in front of him and he knew that the currents in the water below him were probably much stronger than they appeared. The walls holding up the building were doing nothing to slow down the water and it would probably try to drag him out of the house if he submerged himself.

Bert came up with another plan instead. He began to swing, glancing up worriedly when he heard the roof groaning in protest.

“Come on you piece of shit house, just a bit more!”

He finally swung enough to catch himself on top of the dresser next to the now terrified mother cat who began to curl up tighter.

“Hey sweetheart! It’s okay, I’m gonna help you and your babies. Don’t you want that?” He asked as he slowly approached the mother who stared at him with distrust. Bert pouted in response.

“Come on. Please? Wouldn’t you rather take the chance rather than drown?” He held out his hand for the mother to examine and she stared at it, unimpressed. When he inched it slightly forward, the mother sniffed at it before beginning to gnaw happily on the extended fingers.

“Shit, ouch, okay. I’ll take that as a yes.” Bert grunted and moved forward and collected the somewhat sedated mother, making sure to grab her kittens at the same time so she wouldn’t freak out. Holding out his shirt, he made it into a basket for them while bringing the bottom of the shirt up and over them, grabbing the hem with his teeth.

“This is the only way to use both hands while grabbing you guys so I hope you’re warm in there and don’t try to escape!” The man said through the fabric of his soaked shirt. He collected the slack from the rope and swung back over the water, happy that his plan was working but careful of the still protesting roof.

He was exhausted as he climbed up slowly back onto the roof, mindful of the mother cat and her kittens. By time he laid up on the roof once more, exhausted to hell, the rain was finally beginning to dissipate. He closed his eyes breathing heavily before some unexpected extra weight made him grunt as a paw stepped on his kidneys.

He opened his eyes to see that the mama cat was moving her kittens to where she thought they would be the warmest and safest, which at the moment was on Bert’s neck.

“Well, I’m honored.” He chuckled as the mother stared at him impassively before going to sleep next to her children, draped across his chest.

They stayed up on that roof for three days, living off the rations that Bert had stashed away in his backpack. When the residents of the village found him, they were surprised to see the man living with a family of cats on a roof but when the family who owned the cats found out, they were beyond grateful. Dina, mama cat herself, had disappeared two days before the flood had occurred and still had not had her kittens so the family had thought the worst when they couldn’t find her after the storm.

The family was so grateful that they invited Bert in to stay with them for a couple weeks while he figured out what he was going to do next. Every night Dina and the kittens used him as their own self heating bed and he didn’t mind one bit. In fact, he was thinking about how he could travel around and learn more about animals in all sorts of different places and see how he could help them as well if they were this amazing and these ones were just cats. What else could he learn about the world through the eyes of animals?

When he finally left, he wasn’t alone. The black furred kitten had become his shadow and the family had allowed him to keep the small thing since the kitten was finally eating food on his own instead of Dina’s milk.

Bert and the newly named Booker traveled the United States for the next fifteen years. Booker was a very narcissistic but loveable companion as he rode on Bert’s shoulders or with his head sticking out of the man’s backpack for most of the time. Many people the Bert met were surprised to see such a cat that honestly didn’t give much of a shit so long as he was with his human and had a comfy spot to nap. As he traveled, the Great War loomed on everyone’s minds as men were shipped off to war. Since Jeremy wasn’t an American citizen and still kept his Aussie accent, he wasn’t given much trouble. He spent a good amount of time coming up with little entertaining shows with Booker to keep spirits up for the women and children who were worried at home while the war was going on. It seemed to work since Booker was showered with attention and treats wherever he went.

They were in Boston in early 1928 when Booker fell asleep for the last time, cuddled up around Bert’s neck as if he had just fallen asleep. The man had been ramping down their travels as his loyal friend had grown older and much more fragile. The two had helped an uncountable amount of animals from a number of larger cities, working with an organization known as the ASPCA to find homes for as many as he could. Booker was just happily purring in his friend’s ear as they wandered into Boston that trip, very content and very happy. Bert had just gone to sleep, saying goodnight to his friend who purred at him in response and curling tighter into the man’s shoulder and giving Bert’s ear a lick which surprised the man and he laughed before the two had fallen asleep.

The man knew something was wrong when the very familiar lump around his shoulders wasn’t radiating heat as it had done for the past fifteen years. Even more so when he laid completely still and didn’t feel the soft breath on his shoulder. He knew it was going to happen at some point, but it was still devastating that his best friend that he had known for the longest amount of time had passed. The fact that Booker had given him a kiss the night before suddenly popped into his mind. The cat had never done that often, often when he was the most comfortable or Bert did something extra for him. It seemed that Booker knew as well that he would be leaving his traveling companion.

Booker was buried in a cemetery in Boston, Bert using some of his savings to get a headstone. It was the least he could do. He would visit every year in March for the rest of his life.

Bert didn’t stop helping animals, making new friends along the way including a tortoise which he lovingly named Rimmy Tim after his old lover. He traveled the world more and more, eventually doing more amazing things like climbing Mount Everest, creating organizations that would help people and animals around the globe and so much more. He eventually changed his name to Jeremy, and reintroducing himself to Booker and asking what his friend thought of the new style and name. 

Eventually the man would ask for shelter in a cabin during the 60’s when traveling through a blizzard with Rimmy Tim.

It wasn’t what Jeremy expected when he dreamt of traveling the world when he was a child. He was still with his family, just a new one that he loved just as much. If he happened to bring Michael and Jack with him to Boston one year in March, the two would understand completely an bring catnip to rest on a certain headstone that made the man cry as he laughed in sad but happy way.

He had done a number of amazing and out of the ordinary things, but just relaxing in a penthouse with his family who understood everything he stood for and could share his stories with?

Well, he always was a lucky fellow. I mean, the odds of something like that happening was like being struck by lightning.


End file.
